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<title>you know her heart when you hold her hand by thir13enth</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514110">you know her heart when you hold her hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth'>thir13enth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, pretty much a quick drabble character study lol, written for Hilda Week!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:00:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hilda’s hands are not delicate like flowers, as soft as petals.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you know her heart when you hold her hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>prompt:</b> axes/expectations for <a href="https://twitter.com/HildaWeek">Hilda Week</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hilda’s hands are not delicate like flowers, as soft as petals.</p><p>They are rough and calloused, pink paint over chipped nails.</p><p>Maybe she’s never caught doing even a single ounce of work, but the labor shows on her hands. They’ve smoothed out the wood of the handle of her axe, parts of the treated surface rubbed off with the force of her blows and the friction against her sweat. Who else would bear the brunt of her axe’s weight or shoulder the burden of its sharp blade? Who else would remove the rust around its head or clean battle stains from its edge?</p><p>Manicures can hide her war-worn hands — moisturizer for the cuticles, files and polish for the torn ends, wax for the calluses — but nothing can remove the tough skin from many dry and cold mornings, the overlaid scars of blisters over her palms, nor the memory of warm blood between her fingers.</p><p>You can’t tell any of this when you first meet her.</p><p>“Hilda,” she introduces herself when you tell her your name. She smiles — a grin stretched over her pink-glossed lips — as she extends her ring-decorated hand, gold bangles softly clinking at her wrist.</p><p>You take her hand like you would for any princess.</p><p>But for someone that prides herself in doing quite a bit of nothing, her rough handshake almost gives away her secret.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hehe perhaps a little short, but let me know what you think!</p><p>find me on twitter @napsbeforesleep!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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